


even heroes have the right to bleed

by notthebigspoon



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:26:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Aw, you and Cain are friends again?” Lincecum laughs, wielding his tablet and a youtube video.</p><p>	“Yeah.” Ryan laughs, and thinks ‘no.’</p><p>Title taken from Superman (It's Not Easy) by Five for Fighting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	even heroes have the right to bleed

“Aw, you and Cain are friends again?” Lincecum laughs, wielding his tablet and a youtube video.

“Yeah.” Ryan laughs, and thinks ‘no.’

He’s not really sure that he has a lot of friends right now and he can thank his own temper and paranoia for that. Are people laughing at him? Do they really care how he did during the off season? That sharp, self loathing voice in the back of his mind tells him they don’t care. It also hisses that of course they’re laughing at him, everyone is laughing at him, he’s a fucking joke, why does he even play baseball?

The clamoring in his head is too much and he squeezes his eyes shut, gripping his head and taking labored breaths. He’s okay, he’s okay, count backward from ten and let his mind reset. He breathes out one more time before pushing himself to stand, gathering his cereal and orange juice, moving to the sink to dump it out. He’s not hungry anymore and history indicates that he probably won’t be for a while. His record is three days and the only thing that kick started his appetite that time was Ryder flat demanding that daddy try his ice cream.

Going through the clubhouse makes him feel like he’s invisible, not getting a second glance and never getting an invitation to join a game of cards or dominoes, never being asked to join in a post game outing. that’s okay, that’s fine. vogey is angry, he is frustrated. The world can get out and stay out as far as he’s concerned. That’s how he is. Everyone knows it. Everyone laughs about it. Everyone laughs at him. He’s a joke.

He stops at his locker, hands shaking, and doesn’t even bother grabbing his jacket. He shovels everything into his gear bag instead of folding and organizing like he usually does. He drops his keys and phone, cringes at the ensuing crash and just stares at them. He’s all too aware of the sudden silence and the way that people are staring at him. When he crouches down to pick them up, he can’t still his shaking hands, dropping his them on the first two tries. He stays there, eyes clenched closed, and tries to breathe.

“Hey... Vogey. Are you okay?” Cain’s voice is low and close to his ear, and when Ryan looks up, he’s looking him straight in the eye.

“Yeah.” Ryan whispers, and thinks ‘no.’

His phone goes on top of the rest of his gear and he leaves the clubhouse without looking back. the drive home has him in a fog and he doesn’t know how it makes it there without driving into something. He doesn’t even really remember leaving and he’s home, staring at a dark house and realizing that he should cut the engine and go inside. He does, dropping his things in the hall and locking the door behind him. No need to add ‘protecting his family’ to the list of things he’s failed at.

The guest bedroom is barren and cold. It’s probably beautiful but he wouldn’t know, he’s never seen it with the lights on. He strips to boxers and his t-shirt, crawls up under a heavy blanket that’s soft against his skin. He skims his hand up the sheets, fists his hand in them and forces himself to breathe until it feels safe to fall asleep. That feeling never comes. Not until he hears the door opening. the blankets lift and the bed shifts before he’s being pulled forward. He rests his head on an old, flat pillow wrapped in a fading satin pillowcase that doesn’t match anything they own while Nicole’s fingers run through his hair.

“It’s okay.” She says. She always says that, just like she always comes to the guest room and always brings his favorite pillow. “Everything is okay. It’s one night, Ry. What’s one night?”

Everything, he thinks, and whispers, “Nothing.”

“Say it. You’ve said it before, say it again.”

Ryan swallows hard, waits until he feels her hand on his cheek. “Look at all this shit that I can do with a brain that fights me every step of the way.”

“That’s right.” She says softly, and that’s all she says.

He pushes himself up onto one arm, reaches over his wife for the little cap of pills on the nightstand and dumping them into his mouth. The taste lingers in his mouth until he’s drained the accompanying drinkbox of yoohoo and he shudders as he hands the box to Nicole. He lays back down, head back on the pillow in her lap and his arm wrapped around her legs. His medication already has his head drooping and he can barely keep his eyes open.

“Loveyou... sorry... loveyou.” He slurs.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Nicole whispers, kissing the top of his head. “Love you most.”

**Author's Note:**

> The line “Look at all this shit that I can do with a brain that fights me every step of the way.” is something that fadeastride mentioned once when we were having a discussion about bipolar disorder.


End file.
